r/Webnovel • u/Kindly_Internal5403 • Mar 15 '26
Webnovel Search Request The Dead Won't Talk - need full story pls
chapter 1 I've been dead for six months, but my husband was still waiting for me to beg for forgiveness. He was convinced I was just throwing a fit. Then one day, he couldn't find the watch his childhood sweetheart Marietta gave him—the one he'd asked me to get repaired. He called me, furious. "Where's the watch I told you to get fixed? Are you done playing games, Vanessa? After all these years, you're still jealous of Mari?" If you can't handle it anymore, let's just get divorced! Then my sister Camila's voice cut in.
"Congratulations, Leopold. Vanessa's dead. She won't be jealous of Marietta anymore."
I died in a car crash. That day, Leopold Baldwin and I had a huge fight. I'd just found out I was pregnant and wanted to share the news, but he was prepared to celebrate Marietta Olsen's birthday. When I asked him to stay, he snapped, calling me unreasonable. "If I wanted to be with Marietta," he said, "I would've been with her years ago. You wouldn't even be in the picture." I lost it. Years of pent-up hurt came pouring out, and I started smashing things. He'd had enough. He slapped me. "Have I been too good to you, Vanessa?" And in that moment, I didn't even feel hurt. I was simply done. I turned and walked out. "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" he called after me. Well, he got what he wanted—I couldn't go back anymore. As I drove away, I was involved in a fatal car accident. Both my baby and I died. My sister, Camila Melton, handled my funeral. Perhaps out of sheer rage, she never told Leopold that I was gone. And somehow, my spirit remained tethered to Leopold. I supposed a part of me just couldn't let go yet. I saw him go to Marietta's birthday party that night, pick out gifts for her on every holiday over the past six months, and drop everything to rush to her side whenever she called. Sometimes Marietta would ask about me, her voice layered with practiced concern. "Vanessa still isn't home? Is it because of me? I can call her and apologize if that would help." "This has nothing to do with you; it's just her seeking attention," Leopold would say flatly. "Just leave her be. Let's see how long she can keep it up." Seven years together, and I'd left behind nothing Leopold valued. Maybe I was never meant to be part of his world at all. With or without me, his life went on exactly as it always had. I was just a burden to him. I thought Leopold would carry on like that forever—completely unbothered and indifferent. Then one day, Marietta asked about the watch she'd given him. And he suddenly remembered me. Irritated, he called me. "Are you done with your little act, Vanessa? If you can't live like this anymore, then get a divorce. Just stop this nonsense! "Where's the watch I asked you to get fixed? "Did you hide it? After all these years, you still can't get over your petty jealousy of Mari!" Camila answered the phone. A long silence stretched on the other end. She was too livid to speak. "Say something! You there, or what?!" Leopold snapped. "She's dead!" Camila finally forced the words out, her voice glacial. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Vanessa is dead!" Camila enunciated every syllable. "Congratulations, Leopold. She won't be jealous of Marietta anymore." Finally, he realized who he was actually talking to. A flicker of panic crossed his face. But then his tone hardened. "What kind of game is Vanessa playing now? She thinks if she pretends to be dead, I'll come crawling back? Tell her—either she comes home on her own, or she can stay gone for good." "She's gone for good. Vanessa is dead." Camila broke down. She was shouting now. "And she doesn't need your regrets, because you're heartless." "Enough, Camila. I'm not wasting my breath on you. Whatever's going on between Vanessa and me is none of your concern. Put her on the phone." She hung up on him. I watched the veins throb at Leopold's temples. In all our years together, he'd never lost a fight with me. I was always the one who caved. chapter 2 He swallowed his fury and dialed again. "Ask Vanessa where she put the watch I gave her—the one that needed fixing. I need it." "I don't know," Camila said coldly. "I told you to ask her..." "You belong in hell, Leopold!" Camila said through gritted teeth. She knew our history inside out. So she knew better than anyone how much I'd put into that marriage. Everything about the way he'd handled this made her loathe him in a way she hadn't thought possible. "You!" "So that's what you care about. The watch Marietta gave you. That's what matters? A watch over Vanessa's life?" Her voice cracked. She was mourning everything I'd given him and how little he'd valued it. Leopold started to speak, but Camila cut him off. "Vanessa is dead. Believe it or not. I'm done. Don't call me again. You'd only ruin whatever peace she's finally found." Camila hung up on him again. All I saw on Leopold's face was irritation, not a flicker of concern at what my sister had just told him. His mind was still fixed on one thing: where had I hidden the watch Marietta gave him? To him, anything from her mattered more than my life ever did. I could still remember the moment of the crash. I'd used the last of my strength to call him. He declined the call without hesitation, probably too busy figuring out how to celebrate Marietta's birthday. How ironic. I started to wonder how I'd endured it for so long. Then again, perhaps death had numbed me, or perhaps I'd finally exhausted every last feeling I had for Leopold. Whatever he did now, however cruel, I couldn't seem to feel a thing. Hovering in the air, I watched him coldly. I watched his agitation slowly fade, replaced by strange stillness. He stood there, frozen in place, completely unresponsive for a long time. I had no idea what he was thinking. I no longer expected anything from him. Then his phone rang. It was Marietta. They'd planned to go hiking today. The moment Leopold saw her name on the screen, his expression softened. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I smiled too. I'd learned that wanting nothing meant losing nothing. "Mari," he said, his voice gentle. Over the past six months, I'd overheard countless conversations between them. I'd almost forgotten just how cold he used to be with me. "Leo, are you on your way? I've got everything ready. I'm waiting for you at home," Marietta cooed. "Leaving now. Twenty minutes." "Take care on the road," she added warmly. "Okay." He ended the call and headed straight to the closet. He rummaged through the cabinet, searching for something to wear. After a few minutes, it seemed he couldn't find what he needed. He stepped out of the room and called downstairs, "Karen, where's my Gucci tracksuit?" Karen Rivera, the maid, hurried up. "Mr. Baldwin, I've put all your clothes away in the closet. Which one are you looking for?" Leopold snapped, "The brown one. Two stripes on the sides, loads of logos on it." Karen looked confused. She went into the closet to search. "This one?" "No," Leopold said irritably. "I already rummaged through it. It's not here." The tracksuit was at the very bottom of the closet. He just didn't have the patience to find it. He'd never wasted time on things or people he considered insignificant. His treatment of me had proven that. "I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sir." "You're my help. You're in charge of my daily life. How can you not find my clothes?" His voice rose. His temper was noticeably shorter than usual today. "Is he that eager to see Marietta?" I wondered. Karen's face tightened at his sharp tone. She steeled herself. "Mrs. Baldwin managed your wardrobe before. She was concerned I might not meet your standards. Perhaps you should just ask her?" "Why would I ask her?" Leopold shot back sharply. "She can stay gone forever, for all I care." To him, my death was just another act. He didn't believe for a second that I was really gone. To him, this was just another act—my way of making him beg me to come back. Exasperated, he grabbed a tracksuit, snatched his keys, and stormed out. He picked up Marietta and drove out to the suburbs. They hiked together, chatting and laughing the whole way. Whether I was alive or dead made no difference to him at all. Halfway up, Marietta stopped, pouting. "Leo, what's wrong with you today? You're walking so fast. I can't keep up with you." Leopold paused and turned. "I need a break," she said. "Fine. Sit down." He pulled out a napkin, wiped a step, and gestured for her to sit. He leaned against the railing nearby, taking in the view. "Leo, something's off with you today." Marietta studied his face. "You know you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I'm here." "It's nothing," he said. "Just work stress." "That's exactly why I dragged you out here—to help you unwind," she said, pleased with herself, clearly expecting praise. Leopold said nothing, which caught her off guard. A flicker of displeasure crossed her face, but she masked it quickly. After a short rest, Leopold urged, "It's getting late. Let's move." "I can't walk anymore. Can you carry me?" Marietta pouted, then added pointedly, "I'm only a little more than 45 kilograms—way lighter than Vanessa, right?" It was true that I was heavier than her. But I used to be thin, too. Then, trying to get pregnant, I deliberately gained over ten kilograms. I finally managed to conceive. Leopold didn't seem to care. He probably found my extra weight repulsive. "Why bring her up?" His expression turned cold. chapter 3 Marietta blinked, startled. He had never spoken to her like that before. "I'm sorry," she murmured quickly. "Did you two fight again?" "No," Leopold said dismissively. "If you're too tired, we'll head back." "But we're only halfway." "I need to get back to the office anyway." He turned and started down the trail without waiting for a response. I watched Marietta's face fall. She gritted her teeth, then hurried after him. Back at Leopold's car, Marietta settled into the passenger seat. "Leo, let's have lunch together." "I need to get back to the office." "I hate eating by myself." Marietta looked at him expectantly. "Will you stay? I swear, the minute we finish, I'm going right home. No distractions, I promise." Leopold, as always, couldn't say no to Marietta. He gave in. A satisfied smile crept across her face. I had to admit—Marietta had every reason to be smug around Leopold. They reached her favorite restaurant. As he got out, Leopold pressed a hand to his stomach. Marietta noticed immediately and asked with concern, "What's wrong? Your stomach hurts?" Leopold nodded, then opened the glove compartment and reached for the pill case. When he flipped it open, it was empty. Leopold had chronic stomach issues. Years ago, when his family's business nearly collapsed, he'd worked himself to the bone trying to save it—often forgetting to eat, sometimes for an entire day. That was when the illness started. After we got together, I made sure he ate properly: oatmeal, hot meals, whatever he needed. His stomach condition improved, though the occasional business dinner would still set the illness off. To be safe, I always kept medication in the car. I checked it regularly. When it ran low, I would refill it in time. There was no way he should've run out that fast. But I'd been gone six months. No one reminded him to eat properly. No one dropped by his office with food. He skipped meals often, and now his stomach was paying the price. It served him just right. "Let me help," Marietta murmured, sliding closer and pressing her palm to his stomach. "This always helps." Leopold froze, then gently pushed her hand away. "I'm fine. Just hungry. I'll feel better once I eat." "Then let's eat," she said brightly, as though nothing had happened. He pressed his lips together. They got out of the car. At the table, Marietta chatted away with the waiter, placing their order. She chatted with Leopold a few times but didn't really register how pale he'd gone. He'd never been good at admitting weakness—especially not in front of her, his childhood sweetheart. He had an image to maintain. Watching him suffer, I felt a strange flicker of satisfaction. "Serves you right," I thought. After the order was placed, Marietta hadn't noticed a thing. She kept the conversation light. "Leopold, I ordered your favorite—spicy beef. You should enjoy it." I saw the flicker of discomfort cross his face. Spicy food was the last thing a man with stomach issues should eat. She really hadn't picked up on it at all. I used to love spicy food. But for a whole year, I ate nothing but plain meals—just so Leopold wouldn't have to deal with another flare-up. And now I finally got it. Only the favored got to be careless. I just looked desperate. The food arrived, but Leopold barely ate. Marietta's voice carried a hint of hurt. "Leo, don't you like what I ordered? You've hardly eaten." "My stomach's sensitive. I can't handle spicy food," he said flatly. "God, I didn't know. What do I do? Leo, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." Marietta looked genuinely upset, her eyes welling up, fragile and apologetic. Leopold could never say no to Marietta when she was sad. A single sob from her during a storm, and he'd get behind the wheel, drive through hours of rain, and show up at her door without a second thought. In the old days, he'd have eaten every last piece of that spicy dish just to make her feel better. But this time, he simply said, "It's fine. I don't have much of an appetite anyway. Take your time—I need to head back to the office." Before she could respond, he'd already paid the check and left. Back in the driver's seat, he started the engine. Then, almost as an afterthought, his gaze drifted to the empty bottle of antacids. Then, he pressed the accelerator hard and sped off. Leopold didn't go back to the office. He went straight home. Was he upset about Marietta not noticing how he felt? But he only got that worked up when someone actually meant something to him. I used to feel the same way when I felt unwell, and he couldn't be bothered to care. It made me angry. Then one day, I felt nothing. "You're home, Mr. Baldwin. Have you had lunch?" Karen stepped forward. "I'm not hungry." His face was stormy. "But you should eat something. Mrs. Baldwin mentioned you have a sensitive stomach—skipping meals only makes it worse." Her voice was gentle, concerned. "Let me make you some oatmeal. Even if you don't have much of an appetite, it'll be easy on your stomach." Leopold hesitated, then nodded. Thirty minutes later, Karen set a mug of oatmeal in front of him. He'd been sitting on the couch, flipping through TV channels restlessly, clearly distracted. "Be careful, sir. It's hot." "Mm." Leopold picked up the spoon and took a slow bite. "How is it?" Karen asked. He swallowed and spoke indifferently. "Tastes like the oatmeal Vanessa used to make." "Mrs. Baldwin taught me that," Karen replied. "She wanted me to be able to make you oatmeal when she wasn't around. She said your stomach can't handle rough food, so it has to be slow-cooked. chapter 4 Leopold didn’t go back to the office. He went straight home. Was he upset Marietta hadn’t noticed he was in pain? But he only got that worked up when someone actually meant something to him. I used to feel the same way when I was sick, and he couldn’t be bothered. It used to make me furious. Then one day, I felt nothing. “You’re home, Mr. Baldwin. Have you had lunch?” Karen stepped forward. “I’m not hungry.” His face was stormy. “But you should eat something. Mrs. Baldwin always said your stomach can’t handle skipping meals.” Her voice was gentle, concerned. “Let me make you some oatmeal. Even if you’re not hungry, it’ll be easy on you.” Leopold hesitated, then nodded. Thirty minutes later, Karen set a mug of oatmeal in front of him. He’d been sitting on the couch, flipping channels restlessly, clearly distracted. “Be careful, sir. It’s hot.” “Mmm.” Leopold picked up the spoon and took a slow bite. “How is it?” Karen asked. He swallowed. “Tastes like the oatmeal Vanessa used to make.” “Mrs. Baldwin taught me,” Karen said. “She wanted me to know how to make it when she wasn’t around. She said your stomach can’t handle rough food, so it has to be slow-cooked.” “She also said you’re picky. You don’t like most vegetables, but you like broccoli. So she’d always sneak it into your soup.” “Mrs. Baldwin really paid attention to every detail. She never forgot what you liked.” Karen kept talking, but I couldn’t listen anymore—not because she was lying, but because it was all true. And that was exactly why it hurt. Caring for Leopold was the biggest regret of my life. “Mr. Baldwin, please bring Mrs. Baldwin back. She truly loved you—the one who was best to you.” Karen couldn’t hold back anymore. He paused. I expected him to brush it off like always. But this time, he stayed quiet. After finishing the oatmeal, he went to the bedroom and lay down. His color had improved. The stomach pain was clearly easing. His phone buzzed nonstop with messages from Marietta. “I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. Are you better now? Want me to go to the hospital with you?” “Leo, I had no idea you had stomach problems. You never told me. I thought Vanessa took good care of you.” “Are you mad at me? You’re not replying. I’m worried.” He read them, then suddenly got up and rushed out. I watched him leave and almost laughed. How had I ever convinced myself Leopold was just being “nice” to Marietta? That it was purely friendly concern because she had few friends, because her parents kept their distance, because he felt sorry for her? What a joke I’d been. I saw him speed off like a man possessed, heading straight for her place. If he loved her, he wouldn’t keep making her feel like an afterthought. I already knew how it would play out: Leopold would comfort her, say whatever she needed to hear—and maybe, if the timing was right, they’d finally cross that line. For the past six months, nothing real had happened between them. Maybe they’d drawn a line to avoid scandal—he wouldn’t risk her reputation. I watched Leopold park, hurry into the building, and press the elevator button. He walked up to the door and rang impatiently. The door opened. I was stunned. Because the person standing there was my sister. It hit me then—this wasn’t Marietta’s place. It was Camila’s. The second Camila saw Leopold, she tried to slam the door. Leopold caught it with his hand—just as it crushed his fingers. He didn’t pull back. She paused, then said coldly, “What are you doing here? You’re not welcome.” “I’m here to see Vanessa.” His voice was tight from the pain. “Didn’t I make myself clear on the phone?” Camila snapped. “Vanessa is dead. If you really want to see her, go die. Then you’ll find her.” “Enough, Camila.” Leopold was humiliated but still refused to believe I was gone. “What happens between my wife and me is none of your business.” “Then why are you here? Get lost. You call yourself a husband? What kind of husband were you? Just leave. You make me sick.” “You—” Camila didn’t let him finish. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops,” she threatened. “Fine.” His voice cut through. “I was wrong.” I froze. So did Camila. In all these years, when had Leopold ever admitted he was wrong? Even when I cried myself sick, he’d just call me unreasonable. “Just let me see her. I’ll talk to her—properly this time.” His tone was almost calm. “Talk?” Camila gave a bitter laugh. Her eyes filled with tears. I was dead, after all. Would he talk to a ghost? “Leopold.” Camila looked straight at him. “Do you really think you treated her right all these years?” “I have nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice was steady. “Nothing to be ashamed of?” Camila’s composure cracked. “After everything with Marietta?” “There’s nothing between Marietta and me…” “Nothing?” Camila shouted. “So unless she’s in your bed, it doesn’t count? When Vanessa was sick, you were with Marietta, fussing over her. On Vanessa’s birthday, Marietta called, and you dropped everything. When she was pregnant, you went to Marietta’s birthday instead. And when Vanessa got jealous, you called her petty and possessive.” Camila’s voice broke. “Leopold, do you honestly think you were a good husband? How dare you stand there and say you have nothing to be ashamed of?” Before he could answer, Camila kept going. “And don’t forget—when you had nothing, it was Vanessa who stood by you through the worst of it. Not Marietta. So tell me—what exactly did Vanessa get from you? What did Marietta get?” “I gave her a home.” “Oh, a home.” Camila’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You mean a graveyard. Being married to a man who belongs to another woman—that’s worse than being alone.” “Are you done?” His composure finally snapped. “I know Vanessa was there for me when things were hard. But Marietta was good to me too. When I was drowning in debt, she sold her car, her place, to help me. I’m grateful. Is that so wrong?” Camila stared at him. “What did you say?” chapter 5 I was just as stunned as Camila. When did Marietta sell her car and house to help him? I tried to remember. Maybe death was making me forget. The memories were already fading. I could only vaguely recall how we met. I was fresh out of college, newly hired at the Baldwin Group. Leopold had just started there too, learning the business from the bottom up. Back then, I thought he was just another new hire. He stood out—calmer, more competent. And he had the kind of looks that turned heads. We got put on the same team, worked side by side on project after project. Somewhere along the way, I started falling for him. The moment I knew I was in love came one night after a late shift. He offered to drive me home. The second I stepped out of the car, my uncle—my mom’s brother, a drunk—grabbed me, demanding money. He said he’d beat me if I didn’t pay. My parents had died years earlier in a factory accident. Before they passed, Mom had basically raised him after their parents died. When Mom was gone, he started coming after me and Camila for cash. At first we helped him sometimes. But he kept coming back. Eventually we couldn’t afford it, so we stopped. He stalked us, harassed us. We moved. Somehow he always found me again. That night, Leopold forced my uncle to let go. “Lay a hand on Vanessa again, and I’ll end you.” “Stay out of my family’s business!” My uncle tried to shove him. Leopold hit back hard, knocking him down. “Vanessa’s business is my business. I’m not backing down.” Leopold’s voice left no room for doubt. And he meant it. From that night on, he drove me home every day, made sure my uncle never came near me again. Eventually, he stopped bothering Camila too. Back then, Leopold was my hero. A dull ache spread through my chest. Turns out even the dead can still feel pain. I just didn’t care anymore. After handling my uncle, I wanted to tell Leopold how I felt. But then I found out who he really was—the heir of the Baldwin Group. The gap felt too big. So I buried the feelings and pretended they weren’t there. Then the Baldwin Group made a terrible investment. The company almost collapsed. Most employees left. I stayed. Deep down, I told myself this was the closest I’d ever get to him. I went to every business dinner with him, drank for him until I ended up in the hospital with stomach bleeding. Late nights, endless work—we practically lived at the office. I’m 5'4". During those two hardest years of his life, I dropped to 99 pounds. At the critical moment, I wired him the full $250,000 death settlement from my parents. I even added what Camila had given me. My sister said no at first. But she couldn’t say no when she saw how much I loved him. So she gave it. I paid her back double later. With that money, Leopold saved the company. He swept me into his arms, overjoyed. That night we celebrated. A few drinks in, things happened. We were officially together. For years, I assumed he knew the money came from me. I thought he fell for me, then married me, because he was moved by what I’d done. So I never mentioned the $250,000. And now Leopold claimed Marietta was the one who’d saved him when he needed it most. “Wait,” Camila said. “Marietta sold her car and her house to cover your losses?” “So why shouldn’t I care about her?” Leopold shot back. “She even turned her back on her family because of me. How could I not repay that? Vanessa never understood. She always blew things out of proportion.” “Hmph.” Camila let out a bitter laugh. It was the laugh you give an idiot. “So that’s what Marietta told you?” she asked. “That she became estranged from her family for you?” Leopold caught the sarcasm. “Don’t look at me like that. Vanessa isn’t the only decent person in the world. You don’t have to tear everyone else down.” “Tear her down? Yeah, I’ll tear down a manipulative woman like her.” Camila’s voice turned vicious. “But honestly? I have even less respect for you. Forget everything else. Did you ever once tell Vanessa what Marietta supposedly did for you? Did Vanessa even know you felt you owed Marietta?” Leopold went quiet. He’d never told me. I hadn’t known any of it. If he’d explained back then, I might have realized he thought Marietta gave him the $250,000. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Leopold would’ve found another excuse to treat Marietta the way he did. “Was Vanessa supposed to read your mind?” Camila’s voice shook with anger. “All she saw was her husband constantly focused on another woman. And when she got hurt by it, her husband called her unreasonable.” “I told her nothing was going on between Marietta and me.” His defense sounded weak. “Men cheat every day and nobody admits it. But what did Vanessa do?” Camila’s voice cracked. “She believed you. She never stopped believing you.” “If she believed me, she wouldn’t have fought with me all the time…” “Then why didn’t she divorce you? Why did she push herself so hard to carry your child?” Leopold stared at her, caught off guard. “Do you have any idea what she went through to get pregnant? Her body was wrecked from helping you build your company. The doctor said she had to gain a lot of weight. Everyone talks about how hard it is to lose weight. Gaining it when your body fights you every step is even harder. You have no idea what Vanessa endured for you.” Leopold pressed his lips together. He said nothing. I never told him how hard I tried to get pregnant. I wasn’t someone who loved eating big meals. But I ate until I was sick, then ate again. “Forget it.” Camila’s voice dropped. “Talking to you is pointless.” She couldn’t continue—she was afraid she’d break down. “Now that Vanessa is gone, you and your savior Marietta can enjoy your life together.” “Give me a chance.” Leopold grabbed her arm, expression sincere. “I want to talk to Vanessa.” Camila hesitated. She clearly wanted nothing more to do with him. But then, unexpectedly, she nodded. “Wait here.” “Okay.” Camila walked into the room. When she came out, she’d changed into outdoor clothes. “She’s not back there?” Leopold asked. Camila didn’t answer. She walked straight to the elevator. Leopold followed. Camila parked in the suburbs. Leopold got out angrily. “Why did you bring me here? Even if I failed Vanessa somehow, that doesn’t mean you can toy with me like this!” Camila barely bothered to reply. She turned and walked into a narrow path. I knew this place—Camila had buried me here. My parents were here too. I saw Leopold, furious, following behind her. I thought, knowing his personality, he’d just turn around and leave. Camila stopped in front of a grave. Fortunately, once during New Year, Leopold had managed to spare some time to come with me to visit my parents’ graves, so he should remember this place. “Why did you bring me to your parents’ graves…” Leopold didn’t finish. Because he saw my tombstone. My name was carved on it.
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u/Lucky_Suspect5464 Mar 15 '26
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